


Monster Mash Party Crash

by TheAdventuresofCirceandHype



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Cause I think we all really need it at this point, Chapter 2:, F/M, Fluff, Lots of hugs from the team, Masturbation, Nose Kiss, Reader loves Halloween, Snuggling, allusion to a panic attack, cute costumes, impromtu girls night, someone gets bitchslapped but I won't say who
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:35:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27293551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAdventuresofCirceandHype/pseuds/TheAdventuresofCirceandHype
Summary: Having discovered that Halloween has almost arrived, you and Quill decide to celebrate on Xandar. Despite Scrooging out of the holiday, two identical Rockets show up to the party! Will you be able to tell your man apart from the imposter? Or will you and the Guardians be stuck with these creepy twins for life? (Sequel to Security Breach.) (Chapter 2 is now up!)
Relationships: Rocket Raccoon/Reader, reader/oc
Comments: 12
Kudos: 21





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't usually like posting one chapter at a time. But tomorrow is Halloween and everyone deserves a treat on Halloween. I hope everyone likes this. Like I said before there is less sex. Sorry about that. I meant for there to be sex in this chapter but I've been too busy to focus on that. And I refuse to write half assed smut. Will add the proper tags when I post chapter 2. Happy reading and Happy Hallow's Eve!!! EDIT: I posted this the night before Halloween but this site is convinced I posted it today. (Halloween 2020) Strange. But it works.

Plato once said “music gives a soul to the universe.”  
  
Having now known the universe better than you ever had, agreed. You were in such a good place, mentally. It was a relief and a pleasure to let go of your constantly racing thoughts. To quiet the mind and shift into a simple, relaxed state of being. It was nice of Quill to let you borrow his Zune and download a few meditation tracks on it, to help.  
  
You concentrated on slowing your breath and let the soft dulcet notes carry you away to oneness.  
  
KER-POW!  
  
You dove to the ground, involuntarily, covering your head. Cursing under your breath, you made for the door. In the hallway you followed the voices which were more casual than you’d thought, considering it sounded like the ship just took on major damage. In the den you found Groot and Rocket (holding a gun, as per the usual).  
  
“What happened?” you panicked, “do we have to abandon ship?”  
  
Rocket chuckled rather haughtily. “I was just testin’ da new weapon,” he gestured to the bits of broken stone all over the floor.  
  
“I am Groot,” Groot nodded in innocent agreement.  
  
You bit your lower lip and dug your nails into your palms. You counted to 10 and asked:  
  
“Rocket,” your tone somehow sounding polite and forced, “may I have a word with you in private, please?”  
  
While escorting him to your room, Rocket remained completely chill. Almost too chill and it intensified your frustration.  
  
“What is going on here? I thought I told you 8 to 9 I’d be meditating and you’re going all ‘Scarface’ in the den?”  
  
To your disbelief Rocket ignored you as you paced before him. He flicked a dust speck off his new gun and polished it with a cloth from one of his many pockets. You had to take a moment to make sure you were actually seeing this.  
  
“... Hello? Are you listening to me?”  
  
“Course I am, baby,” Rocket responded, still not looking at you. The slightest hint of a smirk on his lips. You knew that tone of voice. The sarcasm came in loud, fresh and clear. He busied himself, tweaking and twisting various doodads on the gun.  
  
“Put that thing down!”  
  
“Mmm… why?”  
  
“Because I’m talking to you.”  
  
“More like talkin’ at me,” Rocket snarked.  
  
“Maybe if you would actually listen or look at me, you wouldn’t feel that way!” Your annoyance peaked. You went from ‘talking at’ Rocket to yelling at him, as much as you hated to validate his complaint.  
  
Rocket sighed exasperatedly as he placed the gun on a nearby desk and turned back to you, his auburn eyes rolling.  
  
That was it for you.  
  
“Fuck you, you rabid, mangy, flea bitten, bastard!!”  
  
Rocket fired back with equal fierceness.  
  
“Fuck you, you weak, twisted, masochistic piece a’ shit!”  
  
His brows were set low over his smoldering gaze. His teeth were sharp and bared. Excitement welled up from within, despite yourself. It didn’t stop you from clapping back.  
  
“Psychotic, pipsqueak, Davy Crockett hat!!” You stepped toward him in a way you hoped seemed threatening and not horny like you felt.  
  
“Stupid, pathetic, emotional, nervous wreck!!!” He’d hopped onto your bed to look you dead in the eye as he demeaned you. He knew he’d hurt your feelings for real last time he called you ‘emotional’. Your rage burned in your throat.  
  
“Trash Panda,” you retorted, savoring every syllable, getting up in his masked face. It was a silly insult, but you knew he despised it.  
  
A flash of deja vu came over your as his pupils shrunk to pin pricks. Rocket uttered his next taunt through a gritted sadistic grin.  
  
“Vermin fucker.”  
  
The end of his sentence devolved into a deep growl. The one you couldn’t resist. Not that you had a chance to. Rocket lunged onto you, knocking you over.  
  
Slowly, the frenzied scramble for dominance your bodies became on the floor gained a smooth rhythm. The delicious friction of his body against yours softening the anger to quintessential lust. You moaned lightly as his mouth found yours. It was your tongue’s turn to wrestle.  
  
Post coitus with Rocket, the two of you lay idly in bed. Rocket relaxedly grooming the fur on his forearms. You pursued the contents of your old Earth phone. You hadn’t checked it in a while. The date read October 29th. You kept scrolling through old photos till the realization hit you.  
  
“Oh my god,” you gleefully gasped, “it’s almost Halloween!”  
  
Rocket pulled his tongue away from his arm to ask, “Da hell is dat supposed ta mean?”  
  
You paused for a moment, speeding through your vast knowledge of the lengthy history of the holiday. You just decided to give Rocket the American version.  
  
“Oh, it’s only the best thing ever! It’s a time to celebrate all things creepy and scary. But in a fun way.”  
  
Rocket pondered this only for a second and responded, “… What? Like mange an’ runnin’ outta ammo?”  
  
“No. NO,” you buried your head in the crook of your arm as you chuckled, “you procyonid from Hades! Awesome shit like witches and ghosts and vampires.”  
  
Rocket quieted and grabbed his computer pad. You probably lost him but you continued.  
  
“And Halloween night! As kids we got to dress up as whatever we want and go to strangers houses to get free candy!”  
  
“Sounds like a good way ta get snuffed,” Rocket answered. To your pleasant surprise Rocket was using his computer pad to look up Halloween. He skimmed through the images of jack o’ lanterns, dreamy autumn naturescapes and adorable children in colorful costumes receiving treats.  
  
“I’ll do ya one better,” you gushed, “as adults we get to dress in the silliest, sexiest outfits imaginable, go to the club, get smashed and go home with whoever’s costume does it for us the most.”  
  
Rocket turned his computer pad back off, shaking his head.  
  
“You humies are fuckin’ weird.”  
  
“I’ve been away from home so long I must’ve missed at least one Halloween,” you speculated.  
  
“Well, sorry ya gotta miss anotha one Squeaker,” Rocket apologized apathetically as he got up and started toward the bathroom.  
  
Maybe I don’t have to, you thought, getting an idea.  
  
You gave four little knocks on Quill’s bedroom doors. “Peter, you in there?”  
  
You listened intently but the pod bay doors whooshed open to welcome you. You excitedly rushed in to find Quill attempting to organize his room. He was in the middle of sorting through seemingly endless dusty shoeboxes of cassettes, magazines and other various knick knacks.  
  
“Hey, Y/n, what’s up?” Quill greeted over his shoulder.  
  
You hesitated for a moment. You knew Peter was from Earth but you didn’t know too much about his past or the little time he spent there in his childhood.  
  
“... Do you remember Halloween?”  
  
Quill instantly looked up from his shoeboxes. Flopping one down, unceremoniously, he answered, “Of course I remember Halloween! It was only the best holiday.”  
  
You sighed with relief. “Well, it’s October 29th!” You told him. Quill made a slightly confused face at you. Oh, you thought, so Quill doesn’t remember the exact date. But he remembers the important stuff. Thank goodness.   
  
“It’s almost here!” You expounded, “Halloween is October 31st.”  
  
Quills blue eyes lit back up. “Oh.. yeah! Man, I haven’t celebrated it in ages.”  
  
“Well, I was kinda thinking… maybe we could celebrate it? Somehow?” You shyly drew a circle on the floor with your toes.  
  
Quill blinked a few times as he considered this. “Yeah…” enthusiasm rising in his voice he gushed, “yeah, why couldn’t we?”  
  
You grinned ear to ear.  
  
“But, uh…” Quill stammered.  
  
“Yeah, I was wondering how, too,” you admitted.  
  
You both stood in silence, brainstorming what the first step should be.  
  
“There might be a shop somewhere in Xandar that sells Terran junk.”  
  
“Really?” You asked confused but intrigued.  
  
“Oh, yeah,” Quill assured you, “there’s one town in Xandar that’s like a mini universe market. They sell things from all over the galaxy. I found an old Gremlins Gizmo car window cling there once.”  
  
After seeing the incredulous look you gave him Quill responded, “Yeah, might be around here somewhere actually,” he added scanning the cluttered floor.  
  
“We should totally go to Xandar and check it out, then.”  
  
“You know… I’ve been looking for an excuse to throw a party,” Quill mentioned. “How about we rent out a bar for a night in Xandar and throw a Halloween bash?”  
  
Slowly, the excitement this idea gave you built so that you began bobbing up and down. “Oh my god, that sounds great! You’d really do that? Just to help me miss home less?”  
  
“Hey, I miss home too. Plus I’m doing it for me just as much. I’ve had a lot fewer Halloweens than you, missy.”  
  
“That’s true,” you laughed. “Oh, Peter, thank you.” You opened your arms for a hug and Peter obliged. Squeezing you a little too tight. You could barely believe you were gonna get your Halloween on for the first time in Space. You could sense Quills appreciation for bringing it up.  
  
“Now, get off before Rocket smacks me,” Peter half kidded.  
  
You hadn’t actually been to Xandar, even though it was your original destination when you lifted off from Earth for the first time. Going there made you wish you’d gone sooner. A bustling city, thriving with many diverse space people. The air was so fresh and the sun warmed your skin just right. It didn’t surprise you that this was the place the Guardians had first met. Rocket proudly pointed out where he got arrested (for the umpteenth time) with the others.  
  
The Universe Market was slightly seedier than the rest of the city but that only endeared it to you. So many alien races, all colors of the rainbow and their cultural wares. Intricate tapestries, the rich smell of unfamiliar spices, and even a few street performers were wonderous enough to almost distract you from the reason why you’d come.  
  
“Right over there,” Quill pointed out a modestly sized trailer-like establishment. Inside a small, elderly human man sat by the entrance on a mat. He nodded kindly as you and the Guardians entered. The place smelled somewhat musty. Scattered around in boxes were random Terran items. Some boxes held old records, books, glass bottles of sand with tiny seashells. To you, it felt like walking into a GoodWill. The others were mildly interested in the Terran junk and seemed eager to see you and Quill’s reactions to it.  
  
“Ah, this must be the seasonal section,” Quill flourished as he neared the back. It was decked out with cheesy fall wall ornaments with fake leaves and branches. Some Halloween costumes were hung up on half mannequins. You and quill rummaged through the clothing racks and plastic bins.  
  
“Hmm, slim pickins,” Quill pouted, “but it’ll have to do I guess.” You knew what he meant. It was all dollar store quality generic things. Like wire and mesh fairy wings and cheap plastic armor or the occasional glove with a missing twin. But with a little determination you were able to dig up things you thought the others would, at least somewhat, like.  
  
You found an old floppy, patched up witch hat that was charming despite it’s age. You knew just what to do with it.  
  
“Here, Gamora,” you presented it to her, regally. “You wear it on your head.”  
  
“What is it?” Gamora inquired as she turned it around in her emerald hands to inspect.  
  
“It’s a witches hat,” you explained gleefully, “it works well on you because, back on Earth, witches were often depicted with green skin, like yours.”  
  
Secretly hoping you hadn’t offended her, you watched as she placed her hand inside the hat to make sure nothing was in it before putting it on her head.  
  
“How do I look?” She asked plainly as she turned to you, yellow eyes striking beneath the black fabric.  
  
“Fantastic,” you answered, the notes of a certain musical starring a particularly famous witch filling your head.  
  
“Yeah,” Quill agreed before hastily continuing his search for the perfect costume.  
  
Drax had been standing to the side, taking a mild interest in the Terran memorabilia that you and Quill had strewn about the place. You approached him with your suggestion in hand.  
  
“Drax,” you began, “back on Earth there were these monsters called ‘Vampires’. They bit peoples necks and sucked their blood.”  
  
Drax seemed unnerved by this, eyes widening. This was comical to you, because his electric blue eyes always seemed as if they were popping slightly from his skull. But you continued explaining.  
  
“But they were also super refined and alluring. Usually so that they could lure people in.”  
  
With this you brandished a cape in front of him. It had a tall flared collar and was black on the outside and red on the inside.  
  
“Do you wish me to go as this… ‘vampire’ you speak of?”  
  
The formality in his voice made you feel silly for insinuating but you still responded.  
  
“Well, yeah, kinda…”  
  
Drax was silent for a few beats. “I will do it,” he said with a warm smile. “But I will not consume anyones bodily fluids,” he added sternly.  
  
Relief came over you as you grinned widely, handing Drax the cape. You helped to tie it in the front around his neck and propped up the collar. Drax waited patiently for you to finish fixing his ‘outfit’. He looked at himself in a nearby mirror. You had to say; he looked hot. The shirtless with a sexy vamp cape look wasn’t bad.  
  
Drax lifted the cape with one arm, getting a feel for this look.  
  
“It is a bit flamboyant for my taste,” he confessed, “but I suppose I could get used to it.”  
  
You clapped tiny claps of joy. Drax seemed pleased by your amusement as he smiled softly.  
  
“Sweet! Now do this,” you urged him as you placed your inner elbow over your nose, below lowered, mysterious eyebrows.  
  
Drax mimicked you, but with his bare arm and not the cape.  
  
“No, no, no,” you chuckled, “like this.” You wrapped the edge of the cape over his arm. Drax held it in place as he repeated the gesture. The effect was instant and hilariously cute.  
  
“Perfect,” you assured through your laughing fit, “you look so handsome.”  
  
With that comment, Rocket interjected.  
  
“Do we really gotta do dis?” He’d been leaning against the wall with his arms crossed the whole time. “Like dress up n’ shit? Dis trash is dusty an’ ancient…”  
  
“Well,” you started, “I guess you really don’t have to dress up on Halloween. But, honestly? That’s a really big part of the fun.”  
  
Rocket stood there, his lips pursed to the side.  
  
“Can I wear these?” Mantis suddenly piped up. She’d fished a pair of gray mouse ears with pink semi-circular centers out of a plastic tote. Placing them on her head, she looked like she felt very accomplished. After a few seconds of looking in the mirror, she asked, “What am I?”  
  
Through a fresh round of giggles you answered, “You’re a mouse!”  
  
Rocket scoffed, “She ain’t no mouse!” His tone was that of slight jealousy. You wondered what his problem could be. You hoped that Rocket didn’t consider Mantis’s choice of costume as some type of weird ‘animal appropriation’.  
  
“Hmm,” you said, getting an idea to help soften the mood. “You’re right, Rocket. There’s something missing…”  
  
Heading over to Mantis, you retrieved an eyeliner pencil from your purse. Mantis had seen you applying it before, so she had an idea what you were about to do. She closed her eyes, still smiling excitedly.  
  
You gingerly held her dainty chin in one hand as you drew on her face, equally as gently, with the other. The other Guardians gathered around you, curiously, to see what you were doing. You anointed her nose with one black dot, then drew three lines on either side of it to form ‘whiskers’. You released Mantis’s face and she turned to look back in the mirror. She gave a giddy laugh at the sight of her new reflection.  
  
“Now, she’s a mouse,” you officially confirmed.  
  
Gamora and Drax laughed along with you and Mantis. Rocket remained silent. He staunchly had his heart set on going as a wallflower, it seemed.  
  
“AHA!!!” Came a triumphant cry from somewhere in the corner. “I fooooound it!” Peter’s voice sing songed.  
  
“Found what?” you called interestedly.  
  
“Only the best thing I could’ve found tonight or any other night….”  
  
You all looked around and waited for Quill to make his grand entrance. He, gracefully, leapt out of the fitting room and struck a dramatic pose. He had proudly donned a brown ghostbusters jumpsuit, complete with the anti-ghost insignia near the left shoulder.  
  
“HA, HA! I ain’t afraid of no ghost!!!!”  
  
“Wow, you lucked out, Quill,” you congratulated.  
  
“What exactly is that?” Drax asked flatly.  
  
“I’m a Ghostbuster, Drax,” Quill informed, haughtily. “They de-hauntify places and kick ghost ectoplasm!”  
  
“It just looks like a plain brown jumpsuit to me,” said, Gamora, thoroughly unimpressed.  
  
Quilled pouted at her. “Yeah, but, it’s got the official Ghostbusters symbol! See!?” Quill pointed it out to Gamora. She regarded it through lowered eyelids and a mix of apathy and befuddlement.  
  
“It’s great, Peter,” you reassured him, “you look legit.”  
  
“Thank you, Y/n, at least someone knows what’s up.” Quill looked around smiling at everyone elses costumes. “Rocket,” he addressed your boyfriend, “you’re gonna look and feel silly without a costume.”  
  
“Ain’t nothin’ in the universe like me ‘cept me,” proclaimed Rocket, “why would I eva want ta be someone else?”  
  
“But… well… because it’s fun,” you stammered.  
  
“Fun? Dis humie holiday is corny and you all look ridiculous,” Rocket snarked.  
  
“Aw, come on, Rocket,” Quill beseeched, “it’s just a little Halloween hijinks.”  
  
“I do not think it is so bad,” Mantis admitted in her child-like tone.  
  
“Rocket,” began Gamora, “don’t you think you should try some new things every once and a while?” Gamora spoke with a certain urgency in her voice as she glanced between you and Rocket.  
  
Rocket waved everyone away and headed for the trailers exit. “I’m sittin’ dis one out.”  
  
Your heart sank as you watched him leave.  
  
“I am Groot,” Groot called to his dad, looking forlorn.  
  
“But it’s a party,” Drax reminded Rocket, “at least go for the food and the strange Earth candy!” (You and Quill had filled everyone in on how on Halloween gorging yourself on sweets was a-ok.)  
  
But with one last scoff, Rocket was gone.  
  
Gamora’s yellow eyes rolled up into the cosmos, Mantis pouted and Drax simply shrugged. Quill put his arm around you and said “Hey, more candy for us, right Y/n?”  
  
“Yeah…”  
  
Groot walked up to you, gesturing open handedly to himself. “I am Groot?” he asked.  
  
The meaning came through loud and clear.  
  
“Oh, Groot,” you apologized, “we almost forgot your costume.”  
  
You and Quill looked at each other, puzzled. Was there possibly anything here in this humble Terran shop that would fit a humanoid tree? The two of you had already rummaged through most of the costumes and the ‘good’ ones had been taken.  
  
Quill gave the costumes another peruse. But looking at the surrounding Fall decor, you had an idea. First you thought you could stick a bunch of faux autumn leaves to Groot. But then a rolled up string of orange holiday lights caught your eye.  
  
You turned to Groot, excited. Groot looked confused at first but then he smiled expectantly.  
  
Back on the Milano you sneaked a portable battery from Rockets gadget stash. You and Quill helped wrap the lights onto Groot’s body, making sure he was comfortable with them on.  
  
“I am Groot?” Groot asked curiously.  
  
“Hold on,” you shushed him, “we need to see if this will work first…”  
  
Once the lights were secured, you made sure the plug was near Groot’s waist. Making a sort of belt on him with the end of the lights string. On Groot’s outer hip you secured the battery.  
  
“I am Groot,” warned Groot pointing at the stolen battery.  
  
“What Rocket doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” you assured him.  
  
The others looked at each other and chuckled at what seemed to be some sort of inside joke. You assumed that they just weren’t used to Rocket getting stolen from for once.  
  
You plugged in the lights and they glimmered on. The rest of the crew ‘ooohed’ at the sight.  
  
Groot looked down at himself with equal admiration.  
  
“I am Groot,” he gleefully exclaimed.  
  
“So, he’s like a Christmas tree,” Quill declared, “right?”  
  
“Nope,” you corrected, hugging Groot carefully so as not to disturb the lights, “he’s a Halloween Tree.”  
  
You spoke with much reverence in your voice. You knew that the others had never heard of ‘The Halloween Tree’ which was the greatest Halloween movie ever made. (And, if you were being perfectly honest, technically Groot would need little pumpkins hanging off him for that.) But Groot seemed ecstatic and that was all that mattered.  
  
“I am Groot,” he agreed, hugging you back.  
  
  
  
That night, you put the drama of earlier that day from your mind as you got ready. Despite Rocket dissing your favorite holiday, you found yourself still hyped. You did your hair up fancily, which you realized you had to start doing more often, cause you hadn’t seen it that way for a while and the effect it had on yourself was flattering.  
  
You hadn’t brought anything equally fancy with you from Earth to wear on Halloween Night. But, you did have a lovely dress. Black, lined with tulle in your favorite color around the bust and forming the lower part of the skirt. You’d brought a lovely venetian mask that you made yourself in an art class once that you felt was too pretty to throw away or leave on Earth. The kind that went over the top half of your face. Also black, with painted lines whose color matched the tulle on your dress. It was adorned here and there with little rhinestones. Feathers of matching color topped it, proudly.  
  
You did your make-up and donned the mask. Suddenly you were a venetian masquerade ball goer. You twirled to get a better look at yourself in the mirror. You hoped that there’d be a decent amount of people at the party. You couldn’t describe how excited you were to introduce the concept of Halloween to space people, in the best way possible. Partying!  
  
You opened your jewelry box to see what else would go well with your outfit. There, among your other jewelry, you found the ring that Rocket had given to you for safety. Right next to it was the ring your late captor, Maxxar Sell, had attached to your pinky the day he abducted you.  
  
Up until now you’d almost forgotten that it existed. You sweated a bit at the brief memory of wearing it. You flashed back to being bound, ordered, imprisoned. Forced to submit. His mandibles grazing your neck…  
  
Quickly pushing the thoughts from your mind, you picked up the ring Rocket had given you and dutifully set it in place on your right ring finger. You pushed the button gem and waited to make sure it glowed awake, before looking for more jewelry options.  
  
You weren’t going to allow memories to ruin this night. Even if Rocket didn’t want to go.  
  
You and Quill had bought a bunch of hoaky decorations from the Terran shop. The others helped you affix them to the walls before they opened up the establishment to guests. Quill helped the DJ pick out some relevant tunes to go with his playlist as you looked out the window, curiously.  
  
Dusk had fallen and there was already a line of people waiting outside to be let in. You couldn’t tell how long it was but the Xandarians looked eager to be there. It looked like some of them had haphazardly thrown together some homemade costumes. You beamed at the sight. How nice of them to play along, you thought.  
  
“Well, we’re ready, let ‘em in,” Quill ordered.  
  
The lights burst into a bright orange as the music blared. The doors were opened and the crowd gathered in. You and Quill were the first to start dancing as usual. Quill was clearly in high spirits, since the very first song he had the DJ play was The Monster Mash. You were surprised that Quill even remembered this song. But, then again, which song doesn’t Peter Quill ever hear and not remember? The Xandarians bopped along to the doo wop ditty. Some had already sat at the open bar while others chatted up their favorite Guardian.  
  
Most of the other songs played were contemporary Xandarian fare. But here and there were songs you knew and missed. He played the Ghostbusters theme 5 times within the first hour. You were happy to hear ‘Time Warp’, ‘Season of the Witch’ and ‘Welcome To My Nightmare’. You were making small talk with a couple of Xandarian gentlemen, when those iconic two notes blasted through the speakers.  
  
Thriller. Not just the greatest Halloween song but possibly the greatest song period.  
  
You instantly turned to Peter who nodded. You both knew exactly what to do. You both shook your right shoulders in sync. The others started wondering what was wrong with you. Soon, though, the other partiers got the gist. They surrounded you and Quill cheering you on. “Hey!” Quill shouted above the commotion, “just follow our lead!!!”  
  
Together, you and Quill led everybody into the entire Thriller dance. You creeped and clapped and thrusted and Elvised. The crowd around you doing their best to mimic. You lifted your arms up, ‘claws’ out in that classic Thriller move. The crowd obliged. You cracked a smile despite knowing you had to look fierce for this move to really ‘work’ but you didn’t care. This was your first Thriller since Earth and everyone loved it.  
You punched your fists together and flourished as Vincent Price did his iconic laugh. Some Xandarians looked around freaked out but others were amused. As the next song started the crowd applauded.  
  
“Dat was beautiful, Squeaker,” came a familiar voice above the crowd. You glanced around frantically to find the source. You looked down to find Rocket, applauding along with the party goers.  
  
“Rocket!” You knelt down to kiss him.  
  
“Hey, babe,” he said, sounding haughtier than usual, before kissing you back. He licked his lips saucily when you pulled away.  
  
“So, you decided to come partake in the lame Terran Halloween party, huh?”  
  
“Of course I did, sweetheart, can’t letchu be out heeya, where any guy can grab ya.”  
  
You giggled at his comment. You guessed he was in a possessive mood tonight.  
  
“Ya know… you look fuckable in dat dress,” Rocket flattered.  
  
Your face grew hot. “Well, I kinda wish you’d worn a costume,” you confessed, “but you look handsome, as always.”  
  
“Thanks, angelface,” Rocket answered with a finger gun. You wondered why he was using so many pet names tonight. You chalked it up to him wanting to butter you up after Scrooging out of your party.  
  
“We should get outta heeya,” Rocket urged, “spend some time wit eachudda… yanno what I’m sayin’?”  
  
“Sure,” you obliged, “after the party.” You resumed dancing along with the others, hoping Rocket would join you.  
  
“Can we go now?” Rocket chuckled seductively.  
  
“Rocket, I’m not leaving. Not after you finally decided to have Halloween with me. You’re STUCK here,” you informed him.  
  
“Well den,” Rocket shrugged rolling his eyes, “why doncha get me a beer?”  
  
You stopped dancing and froze for a moment. “Ok…” you obeyed. You danced your way over to the bar. As you ordered Rockets favorite beer, you wondered why he didn’t just go get one himself. Usually at these kinds of parties Rocket sits at the bar and stays there till the place closes. Pushing your muddled thoughts away, you grabbed the perspiring bottle and turned to find Rocket on the dance floor.  
  
“Squeaker,” Rocket greeted as he neared the bar and took a seat, “I’m heeya!” He gestured to himself grandly.  
  
You gave him a puzzling look. “Yes. I know, hun,” you brushed the confusion off with a laugh as you handed him his beer.  
  
“Thanks!” He took a long swig. “Thought you’d be more excited dat I showed up. Ya did up ya hair? Looks good,” he complimented.  
  
It was hard to mask the perplexity in your voice as you thanked him.  
  
“Hey, Y/n,” Quill pulled you away from the bar and toward the DJ station before you could form your next thought.  
  
“This song, here, ‘Disturbia’,” Quill asked inquisitively, “is that a Halloween song?”  
  
“Not really,” you explained, “but people use it as one cause it has creepy themes. You should play it anyway. It’s good.”  
  
“Ok, thanks,” Quill gave a thumbs up. In the crowd you spotted Rocket eyeing up a random lady, dancing with her friends.  
  
You danced your way back over to him. “Ey, where’s my beer?” he demanded.  
  
“You drank the first one pretty fast…” you commented with awe.  
  
“What?” Rocket shouted over the music, becoming visibly annoyed. “Wouldja just get it, please?” He spat, gaze wandering right back to the lady and her friends.  
  
Mood souring like milk in the sun, you stepped off the dance floor. You decided that you needed a moment to yourself.  
  
‘Disturbia’ started playing. Quill jammed along to it, nodding his head rhythmically while making eye contact with you. You couldn’t help but giggle lightly in response. Everyone else was having fun. You figured you should get yourself some booze to help lighten yourself up.  
  
At the bar, you ordered yourself a mixed drink. Rocket, sitting in the same place you saw him before, waved at you. This didn’t seem right. You blinked at him confoundedly. He beckoned you with his index finger. You put your hands up in a ‘what?’ type gesture. Rocket cocked an eyebrow at you. He shouted something, across the bar at you. Barely making it out, you guessed it was something like ‘What’re ya doin’ ova dere?!’  
  
Needing to get to the bottom of why Rocket was behaving so squirrelly, you attempted to march over to him, stat. But it was getting crowded and you didn’t quite know your way around the place so well. You found yourself in the middle of the dance floor again. Music blasting, lights flashing. You spotted Rocket amongst the dancers but Groot had gotten to him first. In all his lit up, pumpkin colored glory.  
  
“I. Am. Grrroooot,” Groot flourished and posed at Rocket. You laughed as Groot shook his hips a little showing off the lights that formed a belt.  
  
Rocket immediately stepped back. He glared at Groot warily before straightening up. “Oh, yea.. dats uh… dats nice dere, Groot.” Rocket looked every which way he could, seeming desperate to be anywhere but where he was.  
  
“I am Groot,” Groot bragged. But Rocket was disregarding him, completely. You stomped over to Rocket as Groot continued dancing.  
  
“What is with you, tonight,” you interrogated your boyfriend, “are you ok?”  
  
“I’m fine Squeaker,” Rocket insisted in a heated tone, “but we need ta get outta heeya. I gotta tell ya somethin’…”  
  
“WHAT!?” You blurted, fed up.  
  
“I can’t tall ya heeya, we gotta go.”  
  
With an exasperated sigh you turned and headed for the exit but something made you stop in your tracks. You glanced at the bar and realized that Rocket was still there. Waiting for you. Looking bored. It was him, alright. Couldn’t be anyone else. Your blood ran cold.  
  
Zipping as fast as you could through the crowd, forgetting that Rocket (or at least ONE of the Rockets) had something urgent to tell you, you found Quill jigging near the DJ station.  
  
“PETER,” you bellowed desperately over the music, “STOP THE PARTY!!!”  
  
“What? Girl, you cray cray,” Quill quipped as he kept dancing.  
  
“PETER,” you implored him, “something WEIRD is going on!!!!”  
  
“Weird, how?” He shouted.  
  
“Look, just…” you worried that Quill wouldn’t believe you. After a few moments of holding your head and brainstorming, you came up with the most practical way to handle it.  
  
“Call Rocket to the DJ booth!!!”  
  
“Why?” Peter chuckled.  
  
“JUST DO IT,” you screeched.  
  
Quill entered the DJ booth. You watched as he tapped the DJ on the shoulder and pointed at the announcement mic. The DJ handed him the mic.  
  
The music abruptly cut out. “Rocket? If you’re out there, come to the DJ station, please.” Quills voice blared through the speakers as the partiers looked around, disoriented. The DJ cut the music back in much to your exasperation. Quill left the booth to wait with you.  
  
“What’s eating you, Y/n,” you’re acting like you’ve seen a-”  
  
But you weren’t paying attention to Quill. You’d thankfully discovered that you weren’t losing your mind. Because both Rockets were approaching, simultaneously.   
  
You put your arm, tightly, around Quill and pointed directly at the Rocket making his way through the crowd, with Groot following close behind. Then directly at the other Rocket, skirting the edge of the dance floor, coming from the direction of the bar.  
  
Quill’s face fell blank, his eyes widening. He turned his head slowly to look at you. You stared right back, the two of you in a mutual loss for words.  
  
Quill waved frantically at the DJ and made a cutting motion across his neck.  
  
The music died once more. You held your breath as both Rockets neared and made eye contact with each other. They both stood still as statues, not even blinking. But then, at lightning speed, both Rockets pointed their completely identical guns at each other.  
  
“I… am… Groot?” Groots wooden jaw hit the floor.  
  
“Who da FUCK are you?!” The Rocket on the left bellowed.  
  
“I was about ta ask you da same thing,” The Rocket on the right answered, “fakeass!”  
  
By this time, the crowd had caught onto the charade and gathered ‘round to see. You stood there, head swimming. How could there be two Rockets? Who is the other Rocket? And why were you so turned on? You promptly shoved that last thought way, WAY down in your subconscious and focused on the situation at hand.  
  
“Youse da fakeass, CREEP,” the Rocket on the right retorted, “I aughta slap da handsome right off ya!!!”  
  
“Do it, smartass,” the Rocket on the left taunted, “we’ll see whose ‘handsome’ falls off…”  
  
“Whoa, hey, yea, ok, guys,” Quill spluttered attempting to calm down both Rockets (and himself) at once, “what… is going on here?” The sweat on Quill’s brow was visible from where you stood.  
  
“Putcha gun down,” one of the Rockets demanded.  
  
“You first, jackass,” the other retorted.  
  
“How about,” you interrupted, prompting two identical pairs of perfect auburn eyes to turn your way, “you both put down your guns? Ok?”  
  
The two Rockets grit their sharp teeth at each other, arms still at the ready. You decided to try to help them along.  
  
“3…2…1… DROP,” you coached.  
  
Both Rockets surprisingly obeyed. A lot less surprisingly, however, they lunged for each other, becoming a lethal mass of gnashing fangs and swiping claws.  
  
Groot somehow managed to break them up by grabbing each Rocket by the suit collar. He lengthened his branchy limbs to ensure a decent safe distance between them. The poor guy kept looking back and forth at each of his ‘dads’, clearly just as disturbed as everyone else.  
  
You were beside yourself with confusion. All you felt you could do was stand there. You gazed at the two versions of your boyfriend before you, growling and snarling and swearing away. The sight appeared to mock the very fabric of time and space.  
  
Mantis, Drax and Gamora had gathered to gawk at the absurd scene as well. Despite being dressed as various things, they now resembled 3 deer in the headlights.  
  
“Is this some Halloween prank or something?” Gamora asked, her voice more casual than her expression. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to mention this before. But I got the idea for this fic from Episode 6 "Shapeshifter" from the Rocket and Groot shorts series. I felt like it was too good an opportunity to pass up. Sorry for taking so long to update. Decided change this fic from 2 chapters to 3, since this was starting to run kind of long. No sex yet. Sorry, my lovelies. Happy reading!

As a team, you decided it was best to leave the party. But it was still going on without you. You wondered what the gossip would be like the next morning. _Two Rockets_ , you thought to yourself, _this is either the worst thing ever or the best thing ever._ Why did you have a feeling it was going to be the former?

Both Rockets in question were being held in confinement tubes. They looked like long spotlights that you couldn’t break free of. They both stood impatiently, arms crossed, looking daggers at everyone. Neither dared to look at the doppelganger. Both seemed unable to stand the sight.

“Alright,” said Quill gaping at the predicament you were certain he never thought he’d have to deal with, “what… uh. What do we do here?”

“Interrogation?” Gamora suggested.

“What did I have for lunch, yesterday?” Quill blurted.

“I don’t rememba dat,” one Rocket dismissed.

“Yea, I don’ rememba dat either,” the other claimed in the same disinterested tone.

“Is there anything broken on the ship?” You asked hopefully. “Maybe we can let them try to fix it and see who does it fastest?”

“Ya not lettin’ dis imposta anywhere near my shit,” one Rocket decreed, voice dripping vitriol.

“Ey, don’ talk to mah woman like dat,” the other Rocket warned.

“FUCK OFF, she ain’t yours!!”

The rest of the team shouted over the taunts of the Rockets to quiet back down.

“Mantis,” Quill asked, “why don’t you touch them and see which Rocket is ours?”

Mantis shook her pretty head, “I am not going to risk getting bitten like last time.”

“But, Mantis,” Quill beseeched, kneeling beside her chair, “you do realize that this is kind of an emergency?” Mantis just stuck her nose up at him.

“I ain’t gonna bite-cha, Mantis,” one Rocket consoled.

“Yea, me neither,” agreed the second.

“I do not trust either one of you,” Mantis shot back.

Your heart sank but you had to hand it to her; Mantis was more stubborn than she looked.

“We could just keep both Rockets,” Drax proposed, “… Right?”

That naughty little thought you had earlier snaked its way back into your mind. You put forth your best poker face to make sure nobody could tell.

Quill massaged between his eyebrows before walking off to Groot’s bunk.

“Hey, Groot? Buddy,” Quill knocked on the pod bay doors, “you doin’ alright in there?”

“I am Groot,” came the negative answer.

“We could really use your help right now,” Quill hinted.

He was answered with silence. As Quill frustratedly made his way back to the den, you had to admit that you didn’t blame Groot. Seeing your fathers doppelganger and not being sure which one to trust has to be a scary experience. Naughty thoughts aside, you weren’t doing so great with it, either. Who is this other person? How did they manage to make themselves look just like Rocket and WHY were they doing this?

After a few more minutes of debating in circles, Gamora had an idea.

“Why don’t we just leave Y/n with them and see if she can get somewhere?”

“W-what?” You stammered.

“I gotta say, that sounds like a solid plan until we can come up with something better,” Quill sighed.

As the others got up to leave your mouth became dry. _Please don’t leave me alone with these creepy twins on Halloween Night_ , you wanted to beg them. But, inside, you knew you had to give it a shot. Maybe Gamora was right.

Now it was just you and your two lover boys.

“Squeaker,” the one on the right implored, “it’s me. Let me out of here so we can-”

“SHUT UP, you bootleg knockoff!!!”

“Oh, yea,” the Rocket on the right continued, “if you’re me, den why do I call her ‘Squeaker’?”

The Rocket on the left’s eyes glinted with sinful lust. “’Cause when we do the da dirty deed,” he chuckled sinisterly, “she _squeaks_.”

Something about that chuckle seemed familiar. But in the wrong way. You wondered whether that made any sense. You needed to focus.

“Both of you be quiet,” you ordered.

The Rockets regarded you with their arms crossed. One tipping his head to the left, the other to the right. You couldn’t stand this back and forth nor having to stare at the two of them for much longer. You took a deep cleansing breath, stepping away from them, gazing at the stars out the windshield, visible from the den. After a bit of mental preparation you turned around.

“You,” you pointed, “Rocket on my left, why are you _my_ Rocket?”

“Look, Y/n, we’ve been through so much,” he began, “the moment I saw you I had to swallow my feelings. ‘Cause I knew I’d fall for you. I never felt comfortable lovin’ someone until you came into my life. ‘Cept Groot. And if I had to choose between you and the universe, it would always be you ‘cause you taught the stars how to shine.”

Your heart melted just a bit. You’d never heard Rocket be so incredibly sweet. An ‘aww’ escaped your lips.

“And you?” You asked the Rocket on the right.

He gaped at you, before giving a deep, slow chortle. In a soft, yet somewhat hostile tone, as if he was allowing the smoke to escape from the bonfire of anger within him, he spoke.

“Wow… I can’t believe you fell for dat, Squeaker.” A lecherous smile on his lips, eyes sultry. “I’m gonna break outta dis tube, and slap da sense back into ya. Den I’ll tie ya to da wall, pull up the bed right next to ya, and show ya dat you belong to me and _only_ me _.”_

Something about the way he said that last word made it sound like a swear. He’d held eye contact with you the entire time. Upper lip curling over his razor sharp teeth, he gave a brief, deep growl. Literally as he did so, you grabbed the controls and dispersed the tube confining him.

Rocket threw himself at you. The two of you kissed desperately. You even picked him up to your height to do so.

Little did you know; Rocket, having established himself as such, shot his impostor a smug glance while in the midst of giving you some sugar.

“Eh-hey… wait…” the impostor pitifully protested, “no! That isn’t me! Y/n!!”

Alas, the pheromone fueled make-out session only turned heavier despite his pleas.

“AAARGH!!! Screw you, 1157!!!”

The outburst stopped the kissing. You and Rocket stared with shock. You both knew that number. It was the same number on the ring you regretted seeing in your jewelry box, earlier.

“The fuck did you just say?” Rocket asked.

The fake Rocket clicked something invisible on his right wrist. In the blink of an eye, he transformed back into his true form.

The eyes were the first thing you noticed and you’d seen them before. Yellow with tiny pupils below unnaturally long antennae. They reached the upper curve of the confinement tube, mimicking it’s shape. The mandibles stretched, as if waking from sleep. But it couldn’t be him. The others said he was dead. Before the thought could comfort you, the captive spoke in a voice that could only belong to one person.

“Hello, Miss L/n.”

You gave a short scream as you swiftly exited the den to hide in the hallway. Rocket remained where he was.

“What happened?” Quill called from his room.

“Ya gotta be shittin’ me,” Rocket guffawed, “ _Sell_?!” Rockets raucous laughter would have been amusing if you weren’t in a state of panic. “Of course! Only you would be stupid enough to come back from da dead and disguise yourself as me all so you can make whoopie with my girl a second time!”

The comedy was simply too much for Rocket and his little body as he rolled upon the floor. “Ya lowlife bastard!”

“Y/n,” Quill shouted again from his room, “what is going on?”

“It’s a krutackin’ GHOST!” Rocket answered for you, between huffs and puffs.

Quill ran to the den, gun in hand. “I ain’t afraid a’ no-”

Once he got to the den his enthusiasm vanished.

“...Roach? This guy, again? I thought we killed- uhh… ‘manslaughtered’ him,” Quill corrected himself.

The others came out of their rooms to see that Maxxar Sell was indeed alive and well on their ship.

You stayed in the hallway. Max, being taller than most of your shipmates, craned his neck to get a better view of you. You seemed to be the only thing he was interested in. You turned away, flattening your back on the wall. Your breath and sweat grew heavy. Waterfalls of fear fell inside you. You held your breath and tried to concentrate on making it go away. But the waves strength grew, hitting you in merciless crashes. You buried your face in your fists, quaking all over. _Get it together, make it stop_ , you begged yourself. But that only made it worse.

Then, all at once, the fear vanished.

You looked up from your fists and found that Mantis had placed her hand on your arm. She regarded you through understanding eyes. She had done away with your panic attack using her powers. You almost couldn’t believe it.

“Thank you,” you sighed with relief as you gratefully embraced Mantis. She patted your back softly as she returned it. You could hear your shipmates voices from the den.

“I say we crush him, again!” Drax said.

“Yeah, then he’ll just come back like last time, genius,” Quill snarked.

“I’m not a genius if it won’t work,” replied Drax, looking dismayed.

“Oh, yeah?” Rocket began, recovering from his laugh attack. “Well, I think we should leave dis planet and shoot ‘im into space.”

“I am Groot,” Groot proposed through gritted teeth, crimson wrath coloring his voice.

“Whoa, whoa,” Rocket eased.

“Jeesh, buddy,” Quill said, patting Groot on the shoulder, “calm down...”

“We’re not doing any of those things,” Gamora clarified.

“The space idea works for me,” Drax concurred with Rocket.

“Yea, Gamora, why not?” Quill asked.

“We should let Y/n decide what to do with Sell.”

There was quiet in the den. As you let go of Mantis, Quill arrived in the hallway.

“Oh, Y/n, I’m sorry. Are you ok?” He asked sympathetically.

“I’m fine,” you assured him without making eye contact.

“Well..” Quill questioned after an uncomfortable silence, “what do we do with tall, dark and creepy, over there?”

You wrung your hands together awkwardly. You were unable to look anyone in the eye despite all others being on you. A few minutes went by. The others had chosen to pace or sit patiently.

“We… turn him in,” you told Quill, quietly, “to Devin-9.”

Rocket told you plenty of times about Devin-9 and the elaborate plan he had to orchestrate to break out of it. Even then, Rocket admitted, he’d only managed to get out based on pure luck. You didn’t want to begin self debating about how well it would hold someone like Max. You only knew that it was your best shot.

You woefully realized that you needed time to emotionally recoup. So, you didn’t return to the party. The rest of the team felt for you and none of them returned either. You were thankful that none of them wanted to leave you on the ship with Sell.

Rocket escorted you to your bedroom. Which you realized was directly over the den. You attempted to rub the beginning pains of a headache out of your skull.

Rocket crankily paced about the room calling Maxxar all kinds of new and unique curses and insults you’d never heard before. You were thankful, at least, that the severity of the situation was _finally_ hitting him. But the noise made your head explode.

“Rocket, shut up,” you commanded, slumping down on your bed. Not even bothering to remove your gown.

“Betcha liked lookin’ like me, didn’t cha Fugly?” Rocket muttered, hotly.

“He can’t hear you,” you politely told him.

With that, Rocket joined you on the bed and started jumping on it, rhythmically.

“ _EY_ ,” Rocket shouted, _“weez fuckin’ in heeeeeya!!!!”_

“Ha, ha,” you laughed sarcastically, shocked and oddly impressed at his display of immaturity, “we’re fucking! _Rocket, SHUT UP!”_ To your horror, you could feel the beginning of another panic attack slowly creeping into the corners of your senses.

_“Oh-o yeah!”_ Rocket continued _“Take dat to your wanna be fancy pants hooch parlors!”_ He called to the ship's captive as he shook the bed loudly.

You grabbed Rocket by his collar. In a swift and mad moment to stop him and ease your mind, you pinned him sitting against the wall. Rocket was too stunned to react. Not that he had time, since you’d mounted him and looked him straight in the eye. Noses touching.

****“ROCKET. STOP.”** **

****

Rocket stared at you. Your boiling expression unflinching. The two of you sat like that in silence. Your gown covering most of his body like a tent.

“Ok...” Rocket surrendered in the softest tone, “ok, Squeaker…”

As you slowly came to your senses, your grip on his collar loosened. You straightened up as you dismounted him. Rocket remained with his back against the wall still a little shocked.

You sat at the edge of the bed rubbing the ache in your head. Rocket started moving toward you. But you just removed your dress, over your head and dropped it to the floor. You then got under the blanket and snuggled up for bed. After a few moments Rocket disrobed and did the same.

You were lying on your side away from him. Rocket caressed your back and _attempted_ to be the big spoon. Despite your lingering anger, you smiled softly at his gesture. You watched the window as The Milano took off on it’s course for Devin-9. The cityscape disappeared and turned to fast passing stars.

Deep into the night you awaited the peace of sleep. After 3 or 4 hours the wait became boring. You’d shifted to lying on your back. As you stared at the ceiling your mind wandered to what was being kept beneath the floor. Thoughts racing with all sorts of questions about what Maxxar was doing, thinking. How he could possibly pass the time. It’s not like he had enough room to lie down in that tube…

You had to get up and do something or talk to someone. Being alone with your thoughts was becoming torturous. You turned to Rocket next to you. Also on his back and breathing lightly, his ears low and relaxed. It was funny. Rocket almost lived up to the image of the nickname Thor once lovingly gave him.

_“Rocket…are you asleep?”_

Your voice was barely a whisper. Rocket continued snoring. You puckered your lips and moved toward him till the tip of his noise lightly touched them, leaving a tiny kiss. You froze as Rocket stirred. His nose twitched as his tongue flicked up to lick it before he turned to his side away from you.

_He’s asleep_ , you assured yourself as you gracefully got out of bed.

After donning some casual wear and taking a pill for your headache, you left the bedroom. All was silent as the pod bay doors closed behind you.

Tiptoeing down the hall, it seemed like everyone else was in bed. Until you got to the den, where Drax had been appointed ‘watch duty’. He sat there on one of the chairs, snoring loudly. You snickered quietly at the sight. But your amusement died when you noticed that the confinement tube he was guarding appeared empty.

Your heart dropped to your stomach. Your head darted every which way frantically searching for where Sell might be hiding. What was your next move? Do you run back to the safety of your bedroom? Do you alert your shipmates?

“Don’t fret, my dear,” came a mock consoling voice from somewhere above.

Your head snapped up toward it to find Maxxar. His golden stare simmered at you from the top of the confinement tube. He chuckled satisfyingly at your apprehension as he crawled his way back down. His many legs folding and bending as he went. This coupled with the sound his exoskeleton made as he climbed the glass made your skin crawl. You considered leaving but something made you stay.

“I was simply trying to take a little nap,” Maxxar admitted, “didn’t mean to frighten you.”

His fake polite bullshit got on your nerves but you quelled your anger. Maxxar got back into an upright standing position. He placed his fist above his head on the glass and let his eyes feast hungrily on your form. It wasn’t right that someone so reprehensible was blessed with a feature so enticing. You desperately tried not to recall every detail of your last encounter or the parts you somehow enjoyed.

“Why….” was all you could get out before you wrangled your thoughts. “Why did you do this?”

“Awww. I needed to see you again,” Maxxar shrugged nonchalantly. As if this whole scheme was the only natural next-step. “Turns out the only type of men you like are irritable, pint-sized ruffians.”

_What IS it with this guy and his hate-boner for Rocket?_ You thought Rocket had stopped stealing from Max. You made a mental note to re-ask your boyfriend later.

“What? No army of roach thugs to assist you this time?” you blurted. “Finally starting to feel ashamed of everything you’ve done, _Mr. Sell_?” You asked using his last name to mock his use of your own. “So now you’re acting in secrecy?”

“No,” Maxxar shook his head, “this mission was far more… _intimate.”_ Maxxar spoke with a gleam in his eyes that made you uncomfortable. “What you and I have, Miss L/n, is special.”

_Yeah_ , you mockingly agreed, in your head. _It’s about to be a restraining order._

“Although…” Maxxar continued, his voice smooth as if he’d simply been invited over for tea, “I _do_ like your friend. The one with antennae. She looks like she’d make for a nice obedient replacement..”

Your eyes widened as your nails dug into your palms.

_“Mantis would render your ass unconscious before you could lay a greasy finger on her,”_ you hissed, trying to keep your voice low enough as not to disturb Drax’s slumber.

“No need for jealousy…” Maxxar tutted as you scoffed in response. He leaned forward intently. His eyes beaming with carnal starvation.

“If you get me out of here… we can leave together…”

You stared open mouthed as your brain struggled to believe what your ears were telling you. _Does he think I want to go with him?_ You asked yourself, inwardly. _How delusional can you get?_

“I know you enjoyed yourself last time,” he confessed his voice turning husky. “Let me do it again. I’ll be _rougher_ …”

You were so mystified by this insect’s inability to read the room, it took a few moments for you to realize one of his several arms was moving. At first you thought he was reaching for a weapon. Once you tore your gaze away from his face, you realized he was jerking himself off.

_“Eeeeeeeew!!_ ” You exited the den once more, as your scream of disgust woke Drax.

“HEY! STOP THAT!” Drax shouted as he gave Maxxar an open handed slap to the face. The force of it so hard, even you felt it from partway down the hall. Turning you saw Maxxar’s head bounce off the walls of the tube, rapidly. His only reaction was laughing like the sicko he was. You were impressed, though, that people could reach in through the tube but not reach out. Space tech; what couldn’t you do with it? You hurried back toward your room as Drax continued to scold Maxxar. You made a second mental note to thank him, later.

“What just happened?”Gamora leaned out of her own room to ask you. Her tone was somewhat austere, which made you uneasy.

You hesitated before awkwardly explaining. “I… just thought I’d find someone to talk to.”

“And you chose Maxxar?” Gamora asked, judging you.

You couldn’t find any words for her as you stood there biting your lip. Yet, Gamora regarded you with a knowing expression.

“You should know better,” she continued harshly, “criminals like that never feel remorse for their actions or empathy for their victims. Asking them to do so is pure naivety.”

You were startled by how she’d targeted your desires so precisely. Woefully, you realized she was right. You bowed your head in shame as fresh tears lined your vision.

“Look... don’t feel too bad.”

You looked back to her, through your weepy gaze. Her attitude softened at it.

“I know what it’s like to wish people would realize how their actions effects others. Some of those closest to me never have.”

After a brief blip in your memory about Gamora’s relatives, you remembered that she is the adopted daughter of The Mad Titan Thanos. You’d thought several times about how rough her upbringing must’ve been. It was even one of the reasons why you found Gamora so intimidating when you first joined the crew.

“Justice will come to them, eventually,” she consoled you.

You sniffed and gave Gamora a smile.

“Thank you,” you told her.

“Is Rocket asleep?” She asked.

“Like a log,” you promised her. (Even though you immediately felt like that would be a more accurate description of Groot right about now.)

Gamora sighed her tension away. “Why don’t you hang out with me?”

The deadliest woman in the galaxy just asked you to hang out with her. Any lingering disgust you harbored immediately drowned in curious excitement.

“Okay!”

You and Gamora talked for a while before Mantis and some drinks were added. The next thing you knew, 4 hours had gone by. You remembered there was a dangerous prisoner on the ship. But you’d completely forgotten his name.

“So, tell me something, Gamora,” you said between gulps of a sugary space booze the other girls called ‘Aphelion’.

“Why haven’t you and Peter done it, yet?”

Gamora looked daggers at you while Mantis snickered, red faced, at the question.

“Ssseriously?” Gamora slurred, “he just gets on my _nerves_.”

The ceiling spun as you laid on the rug and rubbed the dizziness out of your eyes. “Rocket gets on my nerves,” you admitted, “but I still let him punch me in the whiskers with _his_ whiskers.”

From Gamora’s mattress, Mantis folded inward on herself with laughter. Gamora looked vaguely disturbed off to the side from her chair.

“Ey, come on, Mantis,” you feigned offense, “it’s not like you have anyone to deny sex from or not.”

“I do not,” she admitted through gasps, catching her breath. “But…” she continued wiping away tears, “I _have_ considered it…”

Your eyes widened.

“Really?” Gamora said, sounding genuinely impressed.

“Ooooh, Mantis,” you cooed, sitting up and giving her your full attention, “tell us more.”

Suddenly drained of her mirth, Mantis folded her delicate hands on her lap. “I do not understand. What is it you would like to know?”

“You just said you’ve considered banging someone,” you recapped. “Who is it?”

“Anyone we know?” Gamora inquired.

Mantis stared at Gamora like a kitten seeing a dog for the first time.

“I… I really should not say…”

“C’moooon,” you urged.

“Give usss a hint,” Gamora recommended, slurring again.

Mantis thought for a moment as she twiddled her thumbs.

“This person is…. blue?”

“Drax?” You guessed.

Mantis shook her head, avoiding eye contact with both of you.

“... Yondu?” Gamora wondered.

“Goodness, no,” Mantis’s black marble eyes expanded. You couldn’t help but chuckle at her reaction. You wracked your brains. Who else did you know about that was blue? Then the thought smacked you upside the head. You HAD to ask:

“Is this person _male_?”

Mantis shook her head once more. With that you knew exactly who it was. You gasped silently at the revelation. Mantis turned beet red at your epiphany.

“Well, I give up,” resigned Gamora, despite the fact that it was obvious to you that her own sister was the subject of this conversation. How could Gamora not know who Mantis was talking about? Maybe she just saw Nebula as someone who no person could possibly feel that way for. You knew that sibling relationships were just Like That, sometimes.

_“I KNOW who it is!”_ You shouted.

Mantis gave you a frazzled look and Gamora looked like she might drift off to sleep any moment.

“That red headed chick in the X-men. What’s her name….? _‘Classique?’”_ Your playful attempt to throw Gamora even further off made Mantis smile, appreciatively.

“No,” she said laughing, having no idea who you were speaking of.

“Well, if we’re dating by color,” you rambled drunkenly, “I say you should get with Bruce Banner, Gamora.”

Gamora looked like she was searching her memory. Her jaw dropped when it came back to her.

“That big guy?” She asked disbelievingly.

“Yea,” you confirmed, “that biiiiiiig guy.” You gave her a cheeky wink.

“There’s no way,” she insisted, “how would we… you know..”

You and Mantis leaned in, anticipating how Gamora would put the question you both knew was coming.

“... Consummate?”

You and Mantis’ guffawed rapturously.

“You’d figure something out, I’m sure,” you encouraged Gamora.

“I supposed you’d be the one I go to for advice... Just how _do_ you and Rocket manage anyway?” Gamora inquired.

It was your turn to be the the subject of Mantis’s intensely curious leer. Boy, she sure seemed a lot more curious about sex than you ever thought she would be.

“He’s just so… small,” Gamora couldn’t help stifling a snort as she spoke. Mantis began a fresh laughing fit.

“Hey! First of all; that’s private,” you declared. Gamora and Mantis kept laughing with you. “But I will say that Rocket is _great_ with his gadgets and he has _ways_ …”

Booze was a beautiful thing, you thought to yourself as you sat there giggling and oversharing with your lady shipmates. You were surprised that you’d never hung out with them like this before. You were sad it took a small disaster for it to happen. But you were thankful.

You were having so much fun that you almost didn’t notice someone peek their head in through the open pod bay doors. A familiar fuzzy face, a sleepy expression. He held a tiny mug with steamy tendrils raising from it.

“What’re you broads in heeya cacklin’ about? You talkin’ _smack_ , dats what you doin’…” Rocket's tone was lighthearted despite his tired appearance.

“We are talking about penises,” Mantis wheezed, gleefully. Painfully honest, as always. Not that it phased you or Gamora one bit. Too tipsy for embarrassment.

“Well, dat don’t surprise me none,” Rocket divulged.

“Heeeey, baby,” you sang to Rocket as you crawled up to him. You wrapped your arms loosely around him as you covered the side of his face and neck with little kisses.

“Have you three been up all night?” Rocket asked.

To your abject joy, Rocket didn’t recoil or push you away. In fact, he raised his free arm and held you, tenderly, as you showered him in kisses. His facial expression still slightly miffed. Gamora and Mantis noticed this gesture. Ever since you and Rocket’s first make out session, Rocket had always been sheepish about PDA in front of the crew. But it must’ve been your lucky day. That, or he just knew you were a little drunk and accepted it.

Mantis and Gamora looked at each other and beamed at the adorable sight.

“Yes,” Gamora said, trying not to smile too much at Rocket.

“Y/n,” Rocket tsked, “you should go ta bed, alright?” There was genuine concern in his voice as he looked you in the dreamy eye. You smiled softly.

“Okay,” you folded like a house of cards. You were feeling like sleep now with all that alcohol in your system.

“Night, girls,” you dismissed yourself.

“Night, Y/n,” Gamora called.

“Night,” echoed Mantis.

Down the hall you went, heeding your beds siren call.

The instant you left, Mantis and Gamora flatly stared Rocket down.

Rocket didn’t notice until after taking a deep and rather loud swig of his coffee.

_“What?”_ Rocket shot back.

“Rocket,” Gamora sighed, “you need to take Y/n off the ship.”

“We need ta take _Sell_ off da ship,” Rocket corrected. “I don’t get it. After what he did ta her, why didn’t she have him thrown ta his death?”

“Because Y/n isn’t like you, Rocket,” Gamora explained, calmly. “This is a delicate situation and there are complicated emotions involved, here.”

Rocket rolled his eyes as he took another sip of java.

“Trust me,” Gamora urged Rocket, “if you’re going to be The Boyfriend, you have to be The Boyfriend.”

Rocket could only stare down at his frothy cup as her words sat in his mind.

“Y/n needs you,” Gamora assured him. Mantis nodded in agreement.

Rocket sighed deeply in defeat, as he turned and left.

“Get a buncha women in a room togetha, things get all ‘emotions dis’, ‘feelings dat’….”

As Gamora watched him leave in the same direction you’d gone, she knew she’d gotten through to him.


End file.
